


Outside Coming In

by Keiko Kirin (sakana17)



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-01
Updated: 2006-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-03 18:32:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakana17/pseuds/Keiko%20Kirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PWP. Daniel's first visit to Jack's cabin. Set in Season 7.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outside Coming In

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Wa.

By the time they finished dinner, the sun was behind the trees, and the clear sky glowed from a soft orange to a deepening blue. They drove in silence from town, following a winding two-lane road badly scarred by potholes to an unmarked dirt drive where Jack turned. Through the trees, and as the last light drained from the sky, they reached the cabin and parked.

Although the evening was beautiful -- cool, clear, and quiet -- Jack regretted that it was too dark to see the place at its best. After the long day of travelling, Daniel didn't even pause to try and see the outside; he was too focused on getting his bags out of the back and finding the front door. He stood there, holding the screen door open with his body, while Jack got out the key and opened the door.

Jack entered first to turn on a lamp. Good, the generator was working. He dropped his bags in the bedroom and came out to find Daniel standing in the middle of the main room, bags at his feet, looking around without turning his head. Only his eyes shifted, as if he were afraid to move.

Jack wasn't sure what the problem was. The place wasn't nearly as rustic as Jack pretended it was. It had been a home once, and was still filled with furniture and possessions of his grandfather mingled with Jack's junk. The style was a little out-of-date, maybe, and the ancient fridge needed to be replaced, but other than that, nothing to complain about. He picked up Daniel's bags and took them into the bedroom and thought of comebacks to whatever smart-ass remark Daniel was working himself up to.

Daniel had moved to one of the windows when Jack wandered back, and was looking outside. He was curiously still, and the lamp light reflection turned the window into a mirror. Jack wondered if something else was wrong, something that was nothing to do with being here, and everything to do with having been on that damn planet. Then Daniel said, speaking very low as if only to himself, "I underestimated this place."

Something in the way he said it made Jack hold back his jokey response. He slid his hands into his pockets and waited. Daniel's reflection looked at the room again, and Daniel turned around.

"This place... I never thought about it before," Daniel said, almost smiling but not quite. "This is where you've lived, the place that has meaning for you, that has memories. It's Jackspace. It's... you." He glanced around, and he looked overwhelmed. Or maybe -- afraid of being overwhelmed.

Jack took a quick look around at the wood panelled walls, the frumpy furniture, the stacks of old magazines and paperbacks, the fishing rod cabinet and the table of fishing paraphernalia. No, he couldn't even guess what it looked like through Daniel's eyes. He was reluctant to ask, but his curiosity was too strong.

"And that is--?"

Daniel rested his palms on the window sill and leaned back and looked at the room. "Chaotic, but certain. Reserved and solitary, but also inviting. Maybe a little wild."

"Wild? There's nothing wild about this place." Jack frowned a little. Daniel made it sound like a cave or something.

Daniel smiled softly to himself and said, "No, maybe not." He gave Jack a sidelong look. "But there's something a little wild about you bringing me here."

Oh. Jack drummed his fingers inside his pockets and raised his eyebrows. "We're just fishing," he said, and hoped it didn't sound defensive.

Daniel drummed his fingers on the window sill, still smiling. "No, we're shacked up."

Now Jack had a moment of feeling overwhelmed. Daniel had a point. Jack hadn't thought of it that way. It had just seemed the natural thing to do, to draw Daniel away from thinking about that damn planet, to spend their leave in Jack's favorite spot, fishing. But, yeah, Jack had also had in mind that they would be alone together, away from the shadows -- if they could ever be away from them. And he had never questioned for a second where Daniel would sleep: right next to him in the big, high bed, his great-grandparents' bed, made to last forever. Daniel was right: he had brought Daniel here, to share this with him, not as a visitor but as an inhabitant.

Jack had never questioned it.

Jack gave Daniel a long look, watched his profile until Daniel turned, then smiled and said, "Yep. We're shacked up."

And later--

In bed together, the warm press of Daniel's skin against his as he held Daniel and stroked his arm and tried to get him to relax. It felt like the middle of the night, but it wasn't even eleven o'clock yet. Jack was weary from the trip, but not all that tired. Daniel felt like he was trying to make himself go to sleep.

"Does this bother you?" Jack asked after a while. His voice sounded loud in the dark and silence.

Daniel tilted his head up. "What? Being naked in the bed where generations of O'Neills were conceived?"

"It shouldn't." Jack slid his hand up Daniel's arm, fingers stretching over the firm expanse of bicep. "No ghosts here. I promise," he said seriously. Which was true, although earlier, when he had first come in and started to undress and he was alone, the memories of this room and bed had drifted back to him. So long ago, and that ache was something he had grown accustomed to. It helped a little, knowing Daniel felt a similar ache. No ghosts here, except the ones which were always with them.

He brushed his fingertips against the hairs in the fold of Daniel's underarm and said, "Besides, it wasn't the O'Neills," he said lightly, in his imitation of Daniel in pedantic mode. "It was my mom's side of the family."

"Okay." Some of the tension left Daniel's body. He smiled; Jack felt it against his shoulder.

They fell into silence again, not moving from the comfort of their embrace. The cabin had its own sounds: the hum of the ancient refrigerator in the other room, the slow and lazy wind outside, a leaf falling and touching the window glass. It was the type of silence where you could feel the sky above you, Daniel thought. Feel the sky and feel the stars, as if there were no roof or walls.

The room had a natural smell, maybe from the wood, as if the outside were used to coming in. But the bed was faintly musty, not used much. And the two pillows neatly stacked single-file against the middle of the headboard had been so telling of Jack's solitary existence here that for a moment Daniel had felt like an intruder again. But that had passed. Jack had made it pass. Matter-of-factly he'd arranged the pillows side-by-side, and that was that. If Jack had ever felt the same weight of significance attached to this trip that Daniel was feeling, he hid it well.

Closer than the musty smell now was Jack's smell, whatever it was. Daniel supposed it was something ordinary and unglamorous like sweat, but his words for it were _warm_ and _tangy_. He rubbed his cheek against Jack's shoulder and breathed him in, and let that familiar smell, and Jack's familiar touch, relax him.

Jack broke the silence, speaking softly. "So, what's Danielspace like?"

For a split second, Daniel thought he was teasing, but no, not here, not in the deep stillness of this room.

"You've already been there," Daniel replied. An answer that wasn't one.

Which Jack saw through immediately, unsurprisingly. "You mean that house? No, that's just where you live. Where's the place that's you?"

Daniel took so long in replying, because he didn't even know how to begin to answer, that Jack asked, "Is it Abydos?"

Daniel shifted a little, reclaiming the comfort from Jack's body. "It was. Or I thought it was. I don't know. I don't know if I've ever completely attached that concept to a physical space before."

He paused, because this idea had just come to him and he needed to work on it some more, as bits and pieces fell into place. "I guess it's more of a mental thing."

He kissed the curve of Jack's neck where it joined his shoulder. "And like I said, you've already been there." _Have become a resident there, in fact_, Daniel thought, but decided not to say. He suspected Jack knew as much.

Jack's hands stopped their slow caressing. "Oh."

Yes, Jack must have known it. Daniel relaxed completely and kissed his neck again. Warm and tangy. Jack glided his hand down Daniel's arm and resumed his languorous caresses.

"Well," said Jack. "As long as it gets cable."

Daniel smiled. He breathed him in, and had the sudden impulse to make slow, wonderful love to him for the rest of the night. But he was too comfortable and relaxed now; it was an urge of mind, not body. Then Jack kissed his forehead very softly, and he also seemed too comfortable, too content. The silence of the room engulfed them, and at some point the silence and dark became sleep.

In the pre-dawn, with the darkness just barely receding, Daniel woke up on his side, felt like he had been woken up but not sure how or by what. Jack was facing him, skimming one knuckle back and forth along Daniel's arm. He curved his hand to Daniel's neck and brought him into a deep, wet and hard kiss.

The force of Jack's hunger caught and captured him, drenched him with sweat and fire. Jack grasped him and pulled him forward, squeezed his shoulders, upper arms, ass. Pushed him between his thighs, and Jack arched up, legs bent, bony knees and ankles pressed to Daniel's sides.

Daniel broke from the kiss and balanced on one arm. It was too dark to see Jack clearly without his glasses, but he could feel the pent-up energy in Jack's body from the restless way his fingers moved over Daniel's ass and hips. From his slight shifting, brushing against him. From his warm, rapid breath.

Daniel ran one hand down Jack's chest, felt its rise and fall. Felt it catch for a moment as he pinched one nipple. Jack dug his fingers into Daniel's lower back. The solid curve of his dick rubbed and twitched against Daniel's. Daniel skimmed his hand lower, over the firm, damp, hot skin of Jack's stomach, down to caress his shaft a few times before taking his own and tugging it to complete hardness. Restive beneath him, Jack reached between them, gripped Daniel's wrist and moved his hand out of the way. He held Daniel's cock and guided it lower, dragging the tip over his own hot shaft and balls and behind them before letting go.

Daniel shuddered and clutched a handful of bedsheets. He gripped Jack's thigh with his other hand. Jack was already slick, had already made himself ready... Oh, christ. A flash image of Jack doing it burned through his brain while the feel of it surrounded him, drowned him in the impatient fire of Jack's body. He thrust deep. Jack gasp-sighed. Jack's knees and ankles shoved against his sides.

Okay, no slow here. Daniel didn't have to think, didn't have to build up to a rhythm or find the spot. Jack was in control, knew exactly what he wanted, and was demanding it wordlessly with every inch of his body. He pushed and pulled and jerked and writhed, and his hands grasped Daniel's skin, slippery with sweat. His fingers kneaded and dug and scored and stretched.

Those times before: making love, always -- revelling in Jack's strength, lingering. This was not like that. Jack wanted to be fucked, was getting fucked, hard. Harder. God, yes. It made Daniel high, made him feverish, to feel Jack like this, to have Jack want him like this. No rhythm, instead an endless thrusting, pounding, their bodies crashing together.

The bed swayed and creaked ominously, musty smell of the wood mixing with their musk. The headboard banged against the wall. And Jack was making sounds, something that started off as a _yesssss_, then _oh yeah_, and finally degenerated into a monosyllabic loud groan. So loud that Daniel shshhed him out of habit before the lunacy of it hit him. They were miles away from anywhere, they were absolutely alone, and Jack wanted to be fucked hard. God, it was wonderful.

Jack's writhing became more frenzied. He held onto Daniel's shoulders and thrust up and after a few rough pushes he stilled. The sound he made as he came... That sound was in Daniel's blood now, was part of him now. It pulled on him, and Daniel moved deeper and faster until he was lost. Lost, found, in an instant, captured and held by Jack, bound by his pleasure.

And then: stillness. The quiet of the room where outside came inside was broken by their heavy breath, slowing breath. The light was weak, more shadow than illumination, gradually claiming the entire space.

"Where did that come from?" Daniel asked eventually, watching the ceiling lose some of its shadows. Wet with sweat, his shoulder was plastered against Jack's.

"I'm not sure," Jack answered with the barest hint of amusement in his voice, like he had been just as surprised. Pleasantly surprised.

Daniel rolled onto his side and ran his hand through Jack's hair, making it stick up even more. "Mm, if I'd known the cabin would have this effect on you, I would've agreed to come here ages ago."

Jack's eyebrow twitched as he glanced over. "I don't think it's the cabin," he said with soft seriousness.

Daniel touched his thumb to Jack's jaw and stroked the rough stubble of his beard. "No," he agreed, flopping back against the bed as Jack got up. The bed bounced and made precarious sounds, but Daniel figured, if it could withstand what it just withstood, it was a bed built to last. Those maternal ancestors knew their furniture.

He was still on his back when Jack returned after his shower, dressed in undershorts and an old t-shirt. Jack paused and watched him for a moment before saying, "This shacked-up thing isn't half bad."

Daniel cast him a look, an amused glint in his eyes. "And we haven't even gotten to the fishing yet," he said blandly.

Jack pulled a pair of khaki bermuda shorts from his luggage. "That's what you think."

Daniel made a face and an exaggerated, put-upon groan, but eventually, after he'd showered, dressed, made coffee, and eaten a raw PopTart from the bag of gas station convenience store groceries he'd brought, he joined Jack on the deck, second PopTart held by his teeth, carrying his coffee and a mug for Jack. Jack took it, twitched the fishing line a little, and watched Daniel rearrange everything until he was reclining in the other chair, facing Jack and ignoring the fishing rod waiting for him. He'd eaten half the PopTart before he held it up and squinted at it.

"They don't make these things like they used to."

That didn't, Jack noticed, prevent him from finishing it. "Aren't they supposed to be toasted?"

"I didn't see a toaster."

"Oh, right." Jack brought his line up, adjusting the tension a little, cast it back into the lake. "There's a grill. You could grill them."

Daniel slouched down in the chair and brought his feet up to rest on Jack's knee. His socks were thick old Gold-Toes, with a hole in one of them. Jack was tempted to make a crack about the romance being dead, but the truth was, this was exactly what he wanted, holey socks and all. Daniel relaxed and lazy, miles away from anywhere, the lake, the fish, the sunshine.

It was quiet here, and the quiet was good. Daniel dozed off with his feet on Jack's lap, and Jack fished without catching any fish, musing on Jackspace and Danielspace, whatever those concepts were. Didn't seem to matter anymore, not out here, not right now. It was all just space. The place where they were with each other within the universe which had so far failed to kill them... permanently kill them, he amended.

It was good space. It was their space.

(the end)


End file.
